


Putting It Back Together

by VillainousShakespeare



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Biting, Blood, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Rating May Change, mentions of death before start of story, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29811447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainousShakespeare/pseuds/VillainousShakespeare
Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?
Relationships: Adam (Only Lovers Left Alive) & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

It was more of a mist than a drizzle adding chill to the late autumn air as he walked through the dark streets. Even this time of night there were noises of fellow wanders, zombies he was sure, but he managed to keep from the streets where they roamed. The last thing he needed was to be confronted with the mindlessness of what passed for humanity in these times.

That was the trade off of life in the city. The need to constantly dodge others was barely offset by the convenience of shops open late and services not bound by the constraints of daylight. Not that Adam needed many services of others. He was in most ways self sufficient. He had worked for centuries to make it so. With but two exceptions - sustenance and music - he had only ever needed one soul besides his own. 

She was gone now, his Eve. Eleven years had passed since she had taken a glass of tainted blood in Tangier. It seemed like yesterday, it seemed like a lifetime. He wished it were his lifetime. Only a promise dragged out of him at her death bead had kept him from following her into oblivion. She had used every trick she possessed, every weakness she knew in him, to get him to agree to her demand, and now he was trapped, bound by a promise to another century on this blighted earth. Eighty-nine more revolutions until he could use the wooden bullet that lay heavy in breast pocket and end his grief.

He had wandered after she left him. Angry and bitter, he had left Africa and roved across the globe. Everywhere he went, though, there were memories. He saw her everywhere in Europe. The Middle East was littered with memories. Even South America echoed a life spent together.

Finally he had come back to America. She had not spent as much time in the States. It was easier here. He had considered Seattle, New Orleans, Memphis, the various musical centers of the country, but in the end New York had drawn him in. Strange, he had never spent much time here. Too many zombies too close together. And yet, he could not deny it had definite advantages, and for the most part no one paid any attention to what anyone else did.

He arrived at last at the brownstone in the East Village where he lived his weary life. He was excited, or at least as excited as he was capable of these days, to test out the Rickenbacker bass guitar that he had stumbled upon in a pawn shop. The owner had no idea how rare the model was, and had not known how to react to the large roll of cash that Adam had thrust at him for the instrument. 

Quickly shucking his black leather jacket, Adam took out he new prize and lovingly stroked the light grained wood. He could feel the decades of music that it had produced still reverberating through the body. He flicked a series of toggles and buttons to power up his sound system and plugged the Rickenbacker in. Closing his eyes he placed his fingers firmly on the frets and plucked out a rapid series of low notes, loving the reverberation and full tones it produced. Just as he began to segue into an actual song, however, a loud bang sounded and the lights, sound, and all other electronic power went dead.

"Shit!" he spit out, mood collapsing back in on itself as quickly as it had risen.

Setting the bass gently back in its case despite his irritation, Adam fumbled through his belongings until he located his tool box. After attaching his head torch and grabbing a second flash light just in case, he made his way down the hall to the ladder that lead up through a hatch onto the roof where a small shed held the electric box for his home.

"Just what I fucking need," he muttered, pulling himself onto the tarred surface. 

He was just picking his tools back up when a loud creaking noise drew his attention. Just a few feet away, a second hatch door had opened, and a shape was pulling itself up and onto the roof with some difficulty, judging by the swearing. Adam watched in dismay as the shape unfolded itself to reveal a woman silhouetted against the half moon. She had a large, over bright flashlight in her hands that waved back and forth as she made her way to the shed that was his own destination.

"Who are you?" he asked, intercepting her before she could reach the structure.

"Ohmyfuckinggod!" she cried out, jumping almost a foot as he appeared in front of her.

Adam crossed his arms and waited silently for her to calm down, mouth drawn down into a habitual scowl. 

"You scared me half to death!" she told him needlessly when she had regained some of her composure.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Oh, you know, just signaling Batman that evil is afoot," she said dryly, waving her oversized lamp back and forth.

Adam continued to stare at her, unamused, until she sighed and gave him a real answer.

"I'm checking out the fuse box. Are you from 89? You must be, I guess. So your lights are out too? It doesn't look like it's the whole block, just our two buildings. Hopefully flipping the switch will bring them back on."

"There's no need for you to trouble yourself," he told her when she finally stopped talking. "I have things well in hand. The power should be on shortly."

"Great," she said with a forced smile.

She didn't move. Why was she still standing there? Adam glowered at her, hoping to scare her off, but the brainless girl just stood there. 

"Did you need something else?" he asked reluctantly.

"No, just the one thing," she replied, blinking at him. "Shall we get to it?"

"This will hardly take two," he ground out. "And I know how the system works."

He should! He had redone the entire wiring himself. The convoluted system of shorting wires and faulty circuits had been a travesty when he moved in. It had taken him almost a month to tear it out and build a more streamlined, efficient energy grid. The only problem now was when he forgot himself and pulled too much power for the subpar wiring in the wall to take. He had considered redoing that as well, but it would take time and draw attention, which he was keen on avoiding.

"Wonderful, then you can show me," she chirped at him. "After all, you may not be here the next time it goes off, and then I won't know how it works."

She was not going to let this go, he could tell from the deceptively stubborn set of her shoulders. With a roll of his eyes that he doubted her human eyes could catch in the darkness, he turned on his heel and walked over to the shed. Let her look at it, he decided. It was not like she would understand what he had done anyway.

"Woah," the nattering woman whistled as he opened the door. "That is not what I was expecting at all! It looks like some form of microhydraulics, but there's no way you could have a water source up here. What are you using?"

Adam turned and stared at her, really looking at her for the first time. She was short, even for a woman, not even coming up to his chin. Her hair was haphazardly tied into a bunch on the top of her head and looked like it would be bigger than she was if she were to let it down. The eyes she turned up towards him were inquisitive and sharp. She was pretty, he thought, for a zombie.

"How do you know about that?" he asked.

"I tinker," she said with a shrug. "When I'm anxious. Which is a lot of the time lately, to be honest. Too much energy. Sometimes it helps to take things apart an put them back together again."

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but realized he had no idea what he planned on saying. He closed it again and turned back to his contraption.

"Well, don't get any ideas about taking this apart," he grumbled, resetting the mechanism.

"No, I wouldn't," she assured him. "I only mess with my own things until I'm sure I can get them back the way they started. I learned that the hard way. This is really amazing. You are pulling in a boat load of energy. I just hope you don't burn the buildings down when it runs into the wiring. You're a musician, right? I've heard you practicing through the walls. I was so relieved you were good!"

Did this woman never stop talking? Despite his lack of response she seemed perfectly content to stand behind him, shining her flood light on the shed as he worked to get things running again. 

"Oh! I see what you did there!" she commented brightly as the low hum of electricity started back up. "That should fix it. And I'm pretty sure I will be able to do that myself next time too!"

"Don't," he ordered, shutting the door with a loud clang. "If there is any problem with the power, I will fix it. I don't need someone else ruining my work."

"But if you're not here?" she repeated doggedly.

"Look, this has never been an issue before, why are you suddenly on my case about it now?"

"I didn't live here before," she answered. "I just moved in last week. This... this was my Grandmother's home. She died. Last week. I'm trying to sort it all now but..."

The light from his headtorch clearly lit up the tears that sprang to her eyes. As Adam stood there in horror, the girl's chin began to wobble and silent sobs hiccupped through her body. A moment later she had burst out crying. Adam, unable to think of anything else to do, slowly and gingerly put one arm around her shaking shoulders and patted her lamely on the back, wishing he could be anywhere else in the world. 

***

Lilly woke up completely horrified. It had been a dream, she told herself. It had to have been a dream. That was the only way she was going to survive the events of the night before. 

The soreness in her eyes and the streaks of mascara on the backs of her hands, unfortunately, told her the sad truth. It had been real. She had met her dark, handsome, mysterious neighbor, the one who played dark, mysterious music at all hours of the night, on a dark, mysterious rooftop. (Well, okay, maybe the rooftop hadn't been that mysterious, but still!) And what had she done? She had wept all over him like pathetic child.

This, she sighed to herself, was one of the many many reasons why she was single. Any normal girl would have played the damsel in distress, fluttered their eyes and let him be their hero. He certainly had the looks of a brooding hero, even if he seemed to lack the inclination. Of course, it might just be that he lacked the inclination because she had yammered on about anxiety and tinkering, and her grandmother's death and the _cried_ all over him.

Groaning, she rolled over and looked at her clock, only to be greeted by blinking numbers. Of course. She had been too upset when he had finally managed to steer her back to her roof hatch and rid himself of her, lost in a combination of grief and humiliation, to reset it. Great. That meant that the alarm had never gone off. It could be any time now. A quick glance at her phone confirmed her fear. 4:00 in the afternoon. It had happened. She had become completely nocturnal. 

Slowly dragging herself up, Lilly staggered to the bathroom and tried to let the hot water wash away her misery. She was tired of feeling miserable. By nature she was not a gloomy person. Anxious, yes, but not gloomy. It was just being here, in the house that once was her happy place but now held too many memories. All she could see where ever she looked was her beloved grandmother. Playing the piano, reading in the window nook, cooking in the large, renovated kitchen. Grandma Lillian was everywhere. 

Growing up, Lilly had been an awkward child; small of body but big of personality Gran had said. She was always moving, either her hands or her mouth, having a hard time with stillness. It drove many people to distraction. Grandma Lillian, however, had stated quite matter of factly that she simply had a lot to do and more to say, and therefore needed to do it quickly.

Lilly had spent all of her summers and school vacations here, escaping into the city. Here, she could be herself. With all of the characters in New York City, she was far from the oddest. Grandma Lillian let her patter away happily, always taking her words seriously. She had also found all sorts of mechanical things for Lilly to tinker with, focusing her energy in a more productive direction. It was nonsense, she had opined, that girls were not encouraged more to go into the technical fields. Obviously that was the reason why nothing in this world ran properly.

She had hidden her illness from the family, from Lilly, until the very end. Lilly cursed herself that she had not seen through the excuses for the cancelled visits. A seniors cruise with her girlfriends! She could not imagine the opinionated woman stuck on a boat without someone going overboard. It wasn't until the very end, when she was had been taken to Hospice, that she had phoned Lillian to let her know that it was time to come and visit.

That was eight days ago. Lillian had held her hand at the end, singing in her tear choked voice the torch songs that her Grandmother had once made her living crooning in the night clubs of the city. It had not taken long. Less than a day and Lilly was alone, the owner of a house in the East Village and more money than she had ever imagined possessing, but much the poorer regardless.

The ensuing week was spent puttering around the brownstone, listlessly going through desks and dressers, boxes and cupboards. The memorabilia of a lifetime squirreled away into any available space. She had no need to work at the moment, which was good since she had no employment. Slowly but surely her own night owl tendencies had taken over and she was staying up until the sun streaked the horizon in the morning, only to bed down for the majority of the day. Her parents had always fretted and said it was a sign of depression. Gran had shrugged and agreed that the most exciting things happened at night.

The only excitement Lillian had experienced thus far had been the discovery that a new owner was in residence next door. For as long as she could remember there had been a constant stream of college and conservatory students renting out rooms in the building, turning over each year to the newest crop. Now though, there was one lodger only and he owned the building. 

She had caught sight of him out the front window as he was leaving her second night there. Long, wild black hair that looked in want of brushing, black leather jacket, and black jeans that might have been painted on. He was tall, lean, and somehow dangerous looking. It was the way he walked, she decided. There was something almost feral in the swagger as he took off down the street. The next night she had heard him playing music.

At first she thought there were multiple musicians, but after hours spent guiltlessly eavesdropping she became convinced that it was only him. Interspersed with guitars, drums, bass, and other instruments that she couldn't name had come his voice, a distinctive low growl that cut through her sorrow to go straight to her core. She could feel the vibrations of his voice as surely as she heard the bass thumping through the walls. 

She began haunting the window overlooking their stoops, hoping for sight of him. She caught glimpses a time or two, always late at night, well after dark. Rather he was coming in or going out, he seemed to eschew the daylight even more than she did. Lilly felt drawn to him, and by more than just his untamed beauty. She supposed she could write it off as one of her hyper-fixations, but intuitively she sensed it was more. She longed for an excuse to meet him.

And then she had. At night, on a roof, under a bright moon.

It would have been perfectly romantic, were she not dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and yoga pants, her hair flopped up any old way on her head. If her first words to him were not gasped out in a shriek, followed by thoughtless prattle. And the, the coup de gras, her sobbing breakdown. The look of unmixed horror on his face as he made his feeble attempt to calm her was burned into Lilly's brain.

She had to get rid of it. There might only be one chance to make a first impression, but maybe, just maybe, a second impression could in time supersede it. Never one to sit on a thought, Lilly squared her shoulders. It was six o'clock, he was bound to still be in. She would pay him a visit and apologize for her horrid behavior. 

Yes, that was the plan. After all, what was the worst that could happen? It was bound to go better than last time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilly decides she needs to apologize for crying on Adam. It's got to go better this time, right?

Hunched over his desk, Adam scowled at the blank staff on the music composition page before him. In his mind he could hear the notes that he had composed two nights ago but when he tried to concentrate and write them down they refused to stay clear in his brain. Twice already he had crumpled up the dried out old paper and hurled it across the room. Now, after his pen scratched through another mistake, he swept the entire pile of paper off the desk.

Leaning back in his wingchair, he glared across the room. It was all the fault of _that thing_. There against the wall, clashing with his dark hued room, sat a garishly bright neon yellow tool bag. It was not just that it was an eye sore, though that was bad enough. Really, who in their right mind would purchase anything so hideous? It was the knowledge that it belonged to _her_. That horrid, sobbing girl who had cried all over him last night.

Adam suppressed a shiver as he remembered it. She had clung to him like a python, face buried in his chest has he flailed to find a way to calm her. He had been so startled by the way she melted into him he had not known what to do. He was no longer, he realized, used to experiencing any form of physical contact. 

She was tiny. That had been his first, irrelevant observation. Her watery face had only come up to the middle of his chest. She was also surprisingly warm. Holding her felt so different, so very different than holding Eve had felt. His late wife had been nearly as tall as he was, and like him she lacked the blood pumping through her veins to warm her in the night air.

Blood. That was the next, unshakable realization. She was full of throbbing, pulsing blood. Adam could sense it coursing through her, adding a flush to her face and a beat to the chest pressed against his stomach. With her hair piled as it was on top of her head he could see clearly the blue tinted vein running down her long neck. Staring at it, he felt his animal side begin to stir within him.

It had been ten years since Adam had eaten from a living person. On that desperate night in Tangier it had been a matter of life or death, him or the young woman unfortunate enough to cross his path when he was literally starving. He had turned the girl, and Eve had done the same to her lover. They had given them immortality, curse or gift depending on your mindset. In the end, it hadn't mattered. Both of them had died along with Eve when tainted blood had been sold to them. Adam would have been dead too, had he not been out scouring a rare bookshop for a gift for his beloved. 

Years later, the proximity of a carotid artery, just there for the taking, caused a physical sensations within him. Adam could feel his fangs fighting to descend. Alarmingly, he could also feel his cock hardening in his jeans. Live feeding was not the only thing he had gone without for years. The small woman in his arms, so helpless and so unaware of her peril, was all but begging to be devoured in all sorts of ways. He could imagine tearing away her clothes and sinking into her, first his cock then his fangs, as he satisfied his cravings upon her unsuspecting body. Had Adam been other than what he was, had he not had all of those centuries with Eve to civilize him, she would have been done for.

Instead, he had clumsily patted her on the back, eyes rolling in his head as he did so. He could not quite bring himself to mouth the platitudes he knew she would expect of him, but he did his best to bite back the sarcasm that was his defensive habit. She had lost someone herself, and while the pain of losing someone known only for one short lifetime could never compare to the loss he had suffered, it still touched a chord within him. He knew the deep, unending pain of love taken too soon.

When at last she had managed to breath regularly again, Adam had quickly walked her back to the hatch that led to her own home. She had uttered a ceaseless string of apologies that he neither wanted nor needed, and he had mumbled something inane in return, sounding for all the world like just another zombie. The relief he felt when he shut the hatch behind her had almost brought him to his knees. And yet...

She had been so very warm. So warm and so alive. Irritating and encroaching, yes, but her questions about his electric system had been intelligent, and her observations startlingly apt. He was used to zombies being disinterested, focused so inward on their own petty problems that they didn't see what was right in front of their faces.

Her face had been pretty, the thought ran through his head. A little older than he had expected at first, though they all seemed young to him. Big eyes, full lips, high, almost elfin cheekbones. 

With a growl, Adam stood up and stalked over to the offensive yellow tool bag. He should have left it up on the roof. She would have realized it was missing eventually and gone back up for it. But the skies had looked threatening, and he didn't want her tools to rust. It was a matter of conservation, he assured himself. Not wanting to do something nice for a zombie. Certainly not that.

He obviously was not going to be able to concentrate with the hideous thing in his home. He would take it back over to her. The home she lived in had a double style doorway; if he was lucky the outer door would be open and he could leave it between them. No need to see her again. The last thing he needed was to be dragged into another encounter with her.

Pulling his leather jacket on without bothering with a shirt, Adam grabbed the tool bag and headed for his front door. Best to get this over with. Yanking open the door in his rush, he collided with something soft and with a shock watched the very person he had been hoping to avoid fall backwards off of his front stoop.

"Fuck!" she yelped, as she toppled down.

Adam blinked as she looked up at him from the ground where she sat inelegantly on her ass.

"Are you alright?" he asked as sense returned to him.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she smiled unconvincingly at him. "Luckily I don't have too far to fall."

"I was going out and didn't expect you to be there," he mumbled.

He heard the accusation in his voice, but didn't seem to be able to help it. What the hell had she been doing there?

"Of course not," she blushed. "Um... would you mind?"

She held out her hand and Adam gasped. Her palm was scratched from breaking her fall, and a small pattern of blood was beading up on the skin. Instinctively he took a step back at the same time his head moved forward with a will of its own. The woman looked at him with confusion, and he forced himself calm down. Why the fuck hadn't he put on gloves?

Working hard to control the trembling of his hands, he reached out and helped her to stand. Hyper aware of the siren call of her blood he pulled his hands back as fast as he possibly could, hoping she didn't notice the way they trembled. Fortunately for him she seemed too concentrated on her own discomfort.

"Did you want something?" he asked brusquely when she had gotten her balance back.

"Not really. Well, I mean, yes. To... to apologize. For last night. For crying all over you. Sorry."

"No need," he told her "Forget about it. I have."

"Oh. Well, okay then," she stood for a moment worrying at her lower lip, and he noticed again how full her mouth was. "Were you going somewhere?"

"Out," he said tersely, old habits dying hard. As he saw her flinch, he made his tone soften. "Actually, I was going to see you."

"Really?" he eyes lit up, and Adam felt a panic that he could not place. 

"Yes. You left this on the roof last night. I thought you might want it back."

"Oh," she said again, face falling once more. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it," he said, grimacing. Why was she just standing there? "Well, see you."

"Yeah," she blinked up at him.

"Alright then."

Honestly, wasn't she ever going to move? Giving up, Adam gave her the closest he could muster to a half smile and turned back inside, shutting the door behind him in her face.

Only when the wood was solid between them did he shakily raise his hand in front of his face. There, crimson in the dim light of his apartment, was a smear of her blood. Unable to control himself any longer, he brought his hand to his mouth and desperately sucked the sticky liquid off, moaning with the taste of it. So fresh, so pure, so sweet.

Falling back on the sofa conveniently behind him, he realized he was hard again. Licking to make sure he had gotten every last drop, he stroked himself with his other hand. If he was picturing a certain set of wide eyes and lush lips, it was only because their owner's blood was still hot in his mouth. There could not possibly be any other reason.

***

Well, that had been an unmitigated disaster.

Lilly held the bag of frozen peas to her ass and tried not to dwell on how thoroughly she had humiliated herself. If that was an example of her improving her image she obviously needed to never leave the house again. She was not fit to be around other people. Certainly not fit to be around someone so flawless as her neighbor.

Good lord, when he had walked out the door and into her, it was like being hit with a load of bricks. Lying there on her backside staring up at him, Lilly had been almost stuck dumb by the sight. She had thought he was beautiful from a distance, or in the dark light of the roof. Standing as he was in a halo of porch light he was almost god-like. It did not help that his black leather jacket was parted to reveal a very well muscled chest and abdomen. Lilly's eyes traveled the length of him from the bob of his adam's apple, over his defined pecs and six pack, and down to the thin trail of hair and the vee that drew her eyes past the edge of his low slung jeans.

Sweet bajeebas, but he was perfect. She was hardly the same species. What had she been thinking?

The playing began sometime later that night, around midnight. Lilly was hunched of a jigsaw puzzle she had found in a cupboard. Her Grandmother had loved to do them, and Lilly had caught the bug. She had lost count of the number of nights she had stayed up obsessively putting them together, unable to go to bed until she had found just one more piece, only to see the sun rise as she finished it.

The wail of a guitar came through the wall, sounding plaintive and introspective. Lilly had been drawn to all of the music she had heard from him so far. His melodies were complex, and he seemed to favor minor keys. Her Grandmother would have liked it as well. No doubt she had enjoyed hearing the strains come through the thin walls. Certainly she would have preferred it to the fighting and drunken antics of the students that had always assailed them before. 

Lilly found herself humming along to his playing. She loved music, even if she was self-conscious of her voice. Having a Grandmother who had made a career of crooning songs in smoky clubs made her all too aware of her own deficiency.

There was something so comforting about music. It was almost mathematical in the way it worked. Patterns created and repeated, only to be subverted and return in a new and unexpected ways. If the composer was good, that was. Her neighbor was very good.

Of course he would be good. God forbid he be less than perfect at anything.

So when he kept reaching the end of a delicate passage, only to end on a note that didn't quite resolve the phrase. Lilly could hear the frustration in his fingers clearly through the layers of sheet rock that separated them. At first it amused her; so he was fallible after all. Good. She allowed herself to take a superior pleasure in his failure.

By the time it was approaching two in the morning, she was ready to scream. She was over halfway done with her puzzle - a scene of Paris at night, all lit up - but was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. Her gorgeous, grouchy neighbor must have played through the piece a hundred times, and every time it ended wrong. It was driving her insane. He was so close to finishing it. Every time he hit the not quite right note she felt her entire body twitch. She could only imagine how he was feeling.

It started one more time. Lilly held her breath, willing him to find what was right there, waiting to be put in place. The final phrase started, she scrunched her face, waiting to hear it fixed. The note he played was achingly close, but not quite what the song cried out for.

"Half a step lower!" she screamed out, unable to resist any longer. 

The music stopped. Everything went silent on the other side of the wall. Now she had done it. Lilly could see him, glaring at the wall with that intense, closed off set of blue eyes. She was inordinately happy now that a solid hunk of material kept them apart. Any hope of a friendship developing between her and her haughty crush had surely been dashed now. And all because she could not control her stupid impulses.

After a stretch that seemed like forever, a length of time where Lilly died and was forced back into existence repeatedly, the music started up again. She made herself a small lump in the corner of her sofa, as if somehow she could hide even though it was impossible for him to see her. If she could have fit below the cushions she would have.

He reached to end and after the slightest of pauses he played the note she had suggested. It sounded perfect. The chord rang out, slowly fading, and she felt a small smile fighting to exist on her lips.

The music stopped abruptly again, and for the rest of the night only silence greeted her through the wall between them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilly decides she has had enough of sitting inside and moping. Why does this bother Adam so much?

For six nights Lilly didn't hear so much as a note of music coming through her walls. Were it not for the occasional banging sounds of large something or others being moved about, she might have thought her surly neighbor had relocated to get away from her. More likely, she realized, was that he had put on head phones to keep her prying ears from his precious compositions.

That being the case, Lilly did her best (which in all honesty was lousy) to put him out of her mind and get on with her life. She continued her late night foraging through her grandmother's belongings, pausing at regular intervals to sob when some unexpected jogger of memory was discovered. By the time she had worked her way through the main bedroom, where she happened upon a collection of love letters that Gran and her ill fated fiancé, Lilly's Grandfather though she had never met him, had written during WWII, she was surprised that she had any tears left. No wonder Grandma Lillian had never married, when she had found and lost such a great love while still in her college years. The paper was well worn, and Lilly could just imagine the older woman returning to read them again and again.

Less romantic but no less special was a photo Lilly found where it had fallen behind a bureau. The picture showed Grandma Lillian, glamorously beautiful in a long, sleek sheath dress and beads, singing on stage in front of a three piece jazz combo. Lilly smiled, naming each of the musicians in turn. The original band had long since gone their own ways professionally, but they had remained close friends regardless. The drummer had taken his savings and invested in a small blues and jazz club not far from here. Grandma Lillian had stopped in their on a regular basis to belt out a tune or two, always to great applause. Lilly's nights there, originally under age and smuggled in, were some of her favorites.

Impulsively, Lilly sprang to her feet. There was no reason she had to stay stuck inside all of the time. Gran would want her to get out and savor life; beyond a doubt she had always done so. Rummaging through her belongings she managed to find a simple black skirt and a red top that she had always liked. She brushed out her long hair with defrizzer until she could tolerate the way it looked billowing around her and applied a touch of lipstick and eye makeup to make her look "less like the walking dead" as Gran would have said. All and all she didn't look half bad. Throwing on a wool coat and pair of boots and putting the photo lovingly in one of about seventy gift bags she had found squirreled away earlier, Lilly made her way out into the cool night air.

It was after eleven, late to be heading out but still relatively early for a Friday in the city. A drifting of clouds obscured and showed the moon at intervals, adding occasional light to the dim streets with their burnt out lights. She would be out of the residential blocks soon and into the more bright and crowded nightlife that teemed nearby. 

"It's not wise to be out alone at this hour," a low voice spoke in her ear as a hand descended to her shoulder.

Lillian let out a scream and turned around, bottle of pepper spray pulled from her pocket ready to douse her attacker. Before she could press the button the bottle was knocked from her hand to roll down the street as her wrist was locked in the tight grip of a large, leather encased hand.

"Don't," her assailant said calmly.

Looking up, far up, she confronted a pail face beneath a shock of wild, dark black hair, eyes obscured by sunglasses despite the lateness of the hour.

"Sorry if I frightened you," her neighbor said with a slight smirk, taking off the ridiculous glasses. 

How had she not recognized that sinful purr of a voice? She heard it often enough in her fantasies. 

"I wasn't frightened," she lied automatically, only to add as he continued to stair at her "well, maybe startled."

"Just imagine if I had been someone else. It might not have been so pleasant."

"Yes, because you are the soul of congeniality," she sniped back.

Slowly Lilly's heart beat was returning to normal, or at any rate as normal as it was like to get with him still holding her wrist. She startled easily at the best of times, and in a dark side street when by herself was far from optimal. He seemed to realize this, and was obnoxiously amused by it. Lilly did her best to glare at him, only too aware that she most likely looked like a little yippy dog.

"Fair enough," he agreed, finally letting go of her hand. "My point still stands though. It's not safe out here. All kinds lurking about."

"Monsters waiting to kill me and gobble me up?" she quipped lamely.

"You'd be surprised."

Bending down, he retrieved her pepper spray from where it lay on the street. He examined it as though he wanted to take it apart and put it back together again.

"Not very well constructed," he said at last, surrendering it back to her. "You'd be more likely to spray yourself by accident? Have you?"

"No!" she said indignantly, putting it back in her bag.

He looked at her knowingly and a tell tale blush spread over her cheeks.

"I did spray a date once," she admitted. "In the back of a cab. I was looking for something else in my purse, I pulled it out, and it went off right in his face."

She could not be entirely sure, but she thought she might just detect the hint of a smile twitch his lips. Well, wonders would never cease!

"Dare I ask if there was a date number two?" 

"There was not," she sighed, beginning to walk again in the direction she had been going as he fell in beside her. "As it turned out, he deserved the dousing, though I didn't know it at the time."

"Well then," he said, long stride forcing her to trot, "it was all for the best."

"I guess. He was a broker, had a ton of money but was still rude to the waiter and left a horrible tip. I slipped an extra twenty in while he was in the bathroom."

"Fucking zombies. You're right, he did deserve it."

Lilly walked in silence for a few moments, wondering what on earth was happening. He had never seemed to particularly like her, in fact he had all but run away the previous two times she had come into his presence. So what was he doing now, walking next to her and talking as though he might actually not wish to be anywhere else?

"Where were you going?" she asked when she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Out," he said, jus the one word again.

"Oh, I used to go there all the time!" she said, making her eyes go wide and vacant. "They have horrible service, but the atmosphere is to die for!"

"Sorry, I'm not used to...."

"Talking?" she supplied helpfully as his words trailed off.

"Yeah," he agreed, not seeming to take offense. 

Lilly watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was so odd. Handsome beyond question, talented, and clearly intelligent. One would think he would be out with a different partner every night if he wanted. So why did he spend all his time alone in a rundown brownstone? Why was he so closed off? She loved and hated puzzles, and he was one just begging to be solved.

"Where were you going?" he turned the tables on her.

"A club down on Avenue A."

"Ah, going to do what passes as dancing these days?" he said with a curl of his lip. "Grind against someone mindlessly to tuneless music?"

"Well, aren't we the old snob," she mocked him. "No, as a matter of fact it's a music club. Jazz and blues mostly. Small acts, lots of musicians stopping in when home from a tour, that sort of thing. Nothing fancy, but it has character."

"Really?" his interest seemed to be captured as she described it to him.

"Do you want to come?" she asked, careful to keep her voice neutral while she willed him to say yes.

"I suppose it's better than anything else I have to do," he grimaced.

"Wow, thank you so much," she said, pulling a face.

"I... I told you, I'm not good at this. I don't get out much, or see people."

"It's okay," she told him, fighting an exciting flurry in her stomach. "That's the good thing about music, you can just listen."

"Yeah," he agreed, eyes curiously bright as he looked at her.

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Lilly was hyper aware of him next to her, towering over her diminutive height. She did find that she felt more safe with him beside her. Whenever they neared a group of people on the side walk one look at him was enough to move the loiterers scurrying out of their way. She also caught quite a few glances being thrown their way, particularly after he had walked by. He did have a noticeably nice rear view, she allowed. Scampering after him did have an upside she supposed.

They arrived at the club and Lilly smiled at the portly man sitting on the stool by the door. Sidling up behind him, she reached out and pulled his suspenders, allowing them to snap back into place. He spun around, face breaking out into a huge grin when he saw her. The next moment she was swept into a bear hug that left her breathless.

"Lotus blossom!" he grinned at her. "You're looking all grown up! Haven't seen you around here in years!"

"Not all of us are frozen in time, Q," she said with a laugh. "How long have you been wearing those suspenders?"

"Since you were first sweet talking me to let you in," he smiled back. "You and that Gran of yours. Get me in all kinds of trouble!"

"You found enough trouble all on your own."

"True that, but you always added just that extra dash. We were all sorry to here about Miss Lillian. She was a real special lady, and no mistake."

"Thanks," Lilly fought back tears as he swallowed a lump in her throat. "Is Ossie here tonight?"

"You know he'd never miss a Friday," Q rolled his eyes. "Who else would let him play besides his own bar."

"Thanks, Q. Talk to you later."

"This tall fella with you?" he looked her neighbor, once again sporting his sunglasses, up and down protectively.

"Yeah," she said, once again feeling that butterfly sensation.

"Well, alright then. You be nice to her, or big guy or not, I'll take you down."

Adam didn't dignify that with a comment, merely giving the doorman his usual stare.

"Tell the barkeep I'm buying your drinks tonight," Q added as they started in.

"Do you really want to do that?" she asked with a laugh. "You know how I am."

"Damn girl, just try not to bankrupt me," he chuckled.

Lilly laughed and walked into the dark club, sense memory falling over her like a warm blanket. Music, friendly faces, and a handsome man to escort her. What more could she ask for? She just hoped she could keep from saying or doing something stupid for the rest of the night.

***

Adam was convinced that his new neighbor destined to drive him to distraction. 

It had never really occurred to him how thin the walls of his home were. If it had realized he would have never bought the damn place. Of course, until she had moved in it didn't really matter. The old woman who had been her Grandmother would never have been so gauche as to interfere in his composing. The granddaughter though...

And what galled Adam most of all was that she had been right. The minute her barked out suggestion came slamming into his creative space he knew that she was dead on. He played the piece, hoping against hope as he came to the end that her contribution would prove just as off as his useless attempts had been. And yet he knew before he struck the chord that it perfectly completed his work. It was humiliating!

After that he made sure to plug in his headphones before turning on his instruments. He didn't want to rude after all, he told himself. It had nothing to do with the streak of embarrassment he had felt at her correction. Adam just didn't want to intrude on her piece.

The way was she was intruding on his. He could hear her all the time. Moving furniture around, cooking in her kitchen, even, to his horror, running her shower. He tried not to think about what she might look like under a stream of hot water, body soapy as her hands slid along its curves. Tried to keep the memory of the taste of her out of his mouth as the vision sprang unbidden into his brain. 

It was almost worse when he would hear her crying, which was often. Adam had avoided such open displays of emotion even when he was human. His own tears were only ever shed in private now that Eve was gone. Why then did he feel the urge to break through the walls separating them and wrap the girl once more in his protective embrace?

It must be because he had fed on her, he decided. It was only a few drops, true, but it had still managed to spark something within him. It was such an intimate act, drinking someone's blood. He should have just rinsed it down the drain and been done with it. But it was so sweet, so hot and delicious on his tongue, that would have seemed like a sacrilege.

He was so attuned to her puttering around next door that he was starting to track her movements through the house. It was therefore a start to his system when he heard her front door open and realized that she was going out. At this late hour, with the streets dark and nearly deserted nearby, what was she thinking? Grabbing his coat, glasses, and gloves with a snarl, he was out the door before he could think.

She was not hard to catch. One of his steps could account for three of hers. She made an enticing picture as she ambled down the street, swinging a little gift bag as she walked. Red coat and bright hair caught the light from the moon when it cut through the drifting clouds above. Her skirt displayed a tantalizing stripe of bare leg above a pair of black boots, and he found his mind drifting to how easy it would be to access her femoral artery in such an outfit. 

Had she no idea what a tempting target she made? Quickly walking up behind her, he clamped his hand down on her shoulder and growled into her ear, careful to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"It's not wise to be out alone at this hour," he said.

She was predictably flustered by his approached, and he took a kind of pleasure in making her squirm even more. After all, she was responsible for his discomfort over the past week; it was only right she should feel a little back. He was actually rather enjoying bandying words with her, he realized, until she confessed that she was on her way to a club.

Adam could see it clearly in his mind. Her coat over some chair, she would be clad only in the short black skirt and the tight red satin top he could make out underneath. Her hips swaying as her cloud of hair moved around her, she would catch the eye of any man there. Some zombie or other was bound to come up to her, predatory and drunk most likely. His hands would roam her as they danced, on her bare leg, or sliding around her waist, brushing against her breast, her ass, pulling her close to his sweaty body as he ground against her his hardening dick. 

"Ah, going to do what passes as dancing these days?" he said with an angry curl of his lip. "Grind against someone mindlessly to tuneless music?"

"Well, aren't we the old snob," she relied, rolling her eyes. "No, as a matter of fact it's a music club. Jazz and blues mostly. Small acts, lots of musicians stopping in when home from a tour, that sort of thing. Nothing fancy, but it has character."

"Really?"

That sounded... not terrible.

"Do you want to come?" 

Adam opened his mouth to say no. He never went out, not to clubs or bars or any other place filled with mindless hordes of zombies. But as he looked at her, trying not to let him see how hopeful she was, something inside him softened while another part had completely the opposite reaction altogether.

"I suppose it's better than anything else I have to do."

"Wow, thank you so much."

He honestly hadn't meant to poke her with that comment. It was himself he was frustrated with, not her.

"I... I told you, I'm not good at this. I don't get out much, or see people."

"It's okay," she told him. "That's the good thing about music, you can just listen."

"Yeah."

The comment took Adam aback. That was exactly how he felt. So many people wasted time with needless babble. It was so much easier to just listen. Let the atmosphere and the music take you over and move you. Why didn't more people realize that? The thing he hated most about seeing music live were all the people who insisted on talking over it.

He had an odd moment when she hugged the doorman at that club, fighting back the urge to rip the man's throat open and soak the street in his blood. He managed to fight it back once he saw that the relationship was clearly more paternal than romantic. Not that he cared if she had romantic relationships, of course. He just felt protective over her. Because of the blood.

They entered the establishment and Adam looked around with tentative approval. It was dark, not overly crowded, and those that were there sat and listened attentively to the band playing on the stage. She led him over to the bar, where she leaned in to say hello to the woman working behind it. Evidently she knew this whole place well. Not at all where he would have pictured her hanging out. 

"Hey, Ivy," she said, just loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to disturb the crowd. 

"Lilly! So sorry to hear about Lillian. We all miss her around here. The usual?"

"Yeah, thanks. Oh, and Q says he's paying for it."

"Oh, big spender," the bar tender laughed. "Hi, I'm Ivy. And you are?"

"Adam," he supplied tersely.

"What can I get for you, Adam?" she asked, eyes flickering to his companion and back.

"Nothing, thank you," he answered.

Ivy moved away to make her drink and Adam sighed in relief. It would be much easier to hold himself back from fantasizing about drinking his companion's blood if she were intoxicated. He tried to not let his relief be tinted by disappointment.

"Adam?" she said, looking at him with a half smile. "That fits, I guess. I'm Lilly."

Lilly, he thought. That fit her as well. She was dainty and pretty, although it was sometimes obscured by her clumsiness. Vaguely he noticed the band had just ended a set and applauded automatically, but his attention was focused on fitting Lilly's name with her person.

"Here you go, sweet heart," Ivy interrupted, setting a pint glass filled with light pink liquid down in front of her. "Don't drink it too fast."

The women laughed and Adam raised his brow in question.

"Cranberry and seltzer," Lilly said with a grimace. "I don't drink. Doesn't interact well with my anxiety meds. I know, it makes me a bit of a drag, but -"

"No," he interrupted her. "I prefer it, actually. I don't drink either. Alcohol."

"Oh, well thanks. Or something."

She looked down shyly at her drink, playing with the straw. Adam gave himself a mental shake. She was a human. A zombie. And an annoying one at that. She had cried on him, pried into his wiring project, intruded on his music. Why was he so fascinated with her? Was it just that he longed to taste her again? But if so, then why did he imagine tasting other things than just her blood?

"My Grandmother used to sing here," she told him out of nowhere. "That's her photo over there, behind the bar. Lillian Bell. The owner was her drummer for a while back in the 60's. She would bring me here to listen to what she considered real music. She was a bit of a snob. You would have liked her."

"I'm sure I would have."

Adam scoured his memory, trying to think if he had ever heard of the woman. He thought he might have, actually. He had a vague recollection of a small woman with a big voice that looked not dissimilar to the photo she indicated.

"That's how I know music," she continued, chewing on the straw and drawing undo attention to her mouth. "I don't sing myself, or play much of anything well, but I have an excellent ear."

"Much to my gratitude," he said, realizing at that moment he did feel grateful to her for her assistance.

"Sorry about that," she turned the shade of her shirt. "It sometimes is physically painful for me to hear the wrong note. Or, I mean... not wrong wrong... I meant... oh gosh..."

Adam let her squirm for a few more minutes before putting her out of her misery. She was rather delightful twisting on her stool, looking for a way out of the trap her mouth had gotten her into. He had the feeling it was not an uncommon occurrence for her.

"It was wrong," he said at last, taking pity. "I was stubbornly trying to force a finish that didn't belong. I can be arrogant that way at times."

"No, not you!" she protested mockingly. "I never would have imagined!"

Against his usual nature and inclination, Adam felt a smile begin to raise the corners of his mouth. She was incorrigible, this woman. He could tell that she was intimidated by him, hell, he had cultivated that in her, and yet she still said whatever popped into her head, fear be damned. She was brave, and that was a rare quality it seemed to him.

"Well, if it isn't my little Lilly!"

Adam looked up to see the drummer from the last group sauntering over. Lilly jumped off of her stool and hugged him warmly, but this time Adam had no fear it was anything other than familial affection. He was ancient, if not compared to Adam than to other humans, easily in his late 80s at least. Still, he had held a steady beat. The musician in Adam had to respect that.

"Ossie, it's so good to see you!" Lilly gushed. "I'm sorry I haven't been by in so long."

"We all know why, Lil," the old man sighed. "Lillian didn't want you to see she was failing, so she made up lies to keep you away. I yelled at her for that, don't think I didn't!"

"I can only imagine," she said with a watery smile.

"And who is your young man, missy?"

Adam inwardly rolled his eyes at the moniker, not so much because it assumed they were together but that he was young.

"My friend," Lilly corrected him hastily. "Adam. He's a musician too."

"Good set," he nodded to the drummer.

"Well, I'm not sure how I feel about that," Ossie looked at him appraisingly. "You can do a lot better than one of us."

"Friend, Ossie," she stressed again. "And while you might be my almost Grandad, you are not my father!"

Adam wondered why it bothered him that she was so quick to disavow any serious connection to him. It must be his pride, he decided. She had seemed taken by him that first night on the roof, and certainly the evening he had knocked her over and she had proceeded to stare at his bare chest. He had rather liked the way her eyes lingered on his muscles, to be honest. But perhaps his churlishness had put her off. If so, good for both of them

"You watch what you are saying, Lilly," Ossie scolded her. "You know your Gran had eyes for no one but your Grandpop. When you find a love like that, you can get buried in the grief of it when it's gone, it and forget to let yourself move on. Don't make that same mistake."

"I have to fall in love once first, before I can move on to a second," she said.

Adam leaned back against the bar. Is that what he had been doing? Getting buried in his grief? Eve had made him promise to live, but was he really holding up his vow to her? It made him nervous to even think about.

"I have something for you," Lilly handed the bag to Ossie. "Open it after I'm gone, I can't deal with crying again tonight."

"You are such a sweet pea," he said. "And that reminds me, I have something for you, too! I was cleaning out my office, and I found some master tapes of one of our old recording sessions. And there's Miss Lillian, singing to make your heart break! You got an analogue player at the house? One of the old type, mind you?"

"I don't know," Lilly bit her lip. "I haven't seen one, I don't think."

"I have one," Adam offered, before he even thought about what he was saying. "We can listen to it at my place."

"Well, you might just be worth something after all," Ossie beamed at him.

Adam looked back and forth between Lilly and Ossie, both smiling at him as though he had hung the moon. Inside where his heart once beat, he felt an ever so slight easing that was almost a pain.

What, he wondered, had he gotten himself into?

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to tackle Adam. I hope I will do him justice. My plan is for this to be around 10 chapters... but who knows what they will end up telling me to write for them!


End file.
